Disclaimer: Tolkien's the genius, not me.
If Lúthien was twilight and nightingales, Nimloth was sunshine and bluebirds. She ran where Tinúviel danced, and her weapon was a bow or spear instead of spellbinding song. Her silver hair flashed in the sunlight, and her sea-grey eyes sparkled when she laughed at Dior, which was often.
He didn't mind. He liked making her laugh, and steadfastly ignored the knowing smiles his parents exchanged with Celeborn and Galathil. He had no intention of marrying her.
But then she kissed him beneath a blossoming apple tree, and ran away with laughter like silver bells while he stammered and turned red.